


The Epic Love Story of Sam and Dean and Castiel

by AmyPond45



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Sastiel - Freeform, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:56:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyPond45/pseuds/AmyPond45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is still healing from the trials, and his brother is being overprotective (as usual!) He thinks back over their relationship, remembering how things "began" between them, how they stopped for awhile when he was at Stanford, and how they started up again. And he thinks about Castiel, how the angel became part of their lives and worked his way into both their hearts. And Sam can't help feeling jealous of the love he sees between his brother and Castiel. Because, truth is, he's just a little in love with Cas himself. Uh-oh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Epic Love Story of Sam and Dean and Castiel

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place before the revelations of "Holy Terror."

It happened the first time -- again -- right after that job in Pennsylvania. The one where they saved a planeload of people and first encountered an honest-to-god demon.

Sam was having nightmares, mostly about Jessica. Yeah, pretty much all about Jessica. Not being able to save her. Not telling her about the family business. Not doing anything -- anything -- to stop her death.

Because he knew it was coming. Knew exactly how it would happen. Just didn't wanna believe it. Figured it was some crazy family-guilt thing, some subconscious response he was having to his own decision to stay with Jess, probably forever. 

'Cause as soon as he started thinking, "I'm gonna marry this girl," the nightmares started.

Yeah, and that meant somewhere deep inside, he felt really, really guilty about that decision. Like somehow it was really, really wrong.

Because he couldn't. He couldn't marry Jess. He couldn't marry anyone.

Because of Dean.

He couldn't really remember the first time he realized he was in love with Dean. It must have been somewhere around the fourth or fifth grade, so he was probably about ten. It wasn't sexual -- at least not then -- but it was passionate. Dean had been away for a couple of months at some camp in upstate New York, and Sam had missed him so much it was like a constant ache in his chest that just wouldn't go away.

And when they picked him up he made Dean sit with him in the back seat, curled up all over him, pretending to fall asleep so he didn't have to move, so Dean wouldn't push him away and tell him to stop being such a girl.

But he could tell Dean liked it, could tell Dean had missed him too.

That's what made it worse, in a way. He just knew Dean felt the same way. They were goddamn everything to each other. Always had been. It's just that Sam hadn't realized how special it was, this thing between them, until that moment.

And then it got weird.

They always slept together, always shared a bed, 'cause the motels rarely had cots or couches and Dad couldn't afford two rooms. So when Dean hit puberty Sam started waking up in the night because the bed was shaking and Dean was making those breathy, grunting noises that Sam learned to love more than any sound in the world.

And although Dean was careful at first, only jerking off in bed when Dad was gone, probably doing it in the shower or outside somewhere most of the time, Sam figured -- once Sam understood what was going on and offered to help -- 'cause it seemed like Dean might like it if he helped and he would do anything to please his brother -- well, that was how it started.

Because once he offered, once he reached over and put his hand on his brother while he was shaking like that -- and at first Dean went still, very still, and Sam was afraid he would push him away or maybe even punch him, but he didn't. He just let Sam touch him while he finished jerking off -- that was pretty much it.

The moment their sex life started.

Sam didn't really understand that at the time -- he was only ten years old, for godssake! -- but once things evolved, once Sam hit puberty himself and understood what Dean was feeling, how good it felt to have someone touch you when you were shaking with need -- how really, really good it felt if that someone was the person you most loved in the whole world -- and all the love stories Sam read helped explain the emotional bond so that by the age of thirteen Sam finally gave a name to his feelings for Dean, really faced the fact that he was in love with Dean, not just fond of him in a purely brotherly way -- well, things got pretty hot and heavy after that. 

Because Dean was clearly in love with Sam too.

Things weren't always easy between them. They were brothers, after all. They fought, they argued and bickered and sometimes beat the crap out of each other, especially once Sam started to grow taller than his brother, which made Dean really mad sometimes.

But the bond between them was intense, passionate, always and forever, so that even when they were mad at each other they could always get the other one to laugh, always find a way to connect again -- usually ending in sex, of course, which was always, always amazing.

Until Sam went away to college. Dad was furious, of course, which is why Sam kept it secret until the last minute and then just left.

But Dean -- Dean's heart was broken. He stood staring at Sam while their Dad yelled and Sam yelled back, not even looking at Dean because he knew -- he knew -- how devastated Dean was.

But Sam also knew he had to do this, had had to do it for a while now. Just get away, see if he could make anything else of his life. Because how could he know if he didn't try? How could he be sure he was making the right decision about anything unless he got away, cleared his head, faced his own demons, so to speak.

Because Dean was more important than anything in Sam's life, and he worried that maybe, just maybe, that might not be healthy. And Sam just had to know if he could live without him. Because he assumed that someday he would have to.

And the crazy thing was, he could. For almost four years he did. Sam lived a normal, college-boy life almost the whole time, except when Dean dropped in one weekend and they fell right into bed and Sam cried, actually sobbed like a girl because Dean was just leaving, had only dropped by on his way home from a job, and he made Sam so homesick and desperate because he was so sweet, so forgiving, so completely and utterly ok with Sam's decision to leave him, so that when he left Sam was depressed for a week, almost dropped out to go after him, beg him to take him back.

But then Sam met Jess and things got normal again.

Until the dreams started.

And now, in retrospect, as Sam lay in the motel bed in Pennsylvania with tears running down his cheeks and Dean pressed up against his back, one arm tucked securely across Sam's chest, Dean's breath on the back of his neck -- now Sam realized that those dreams were more than just his brain's way of dealing with the guilt of his mother's death.

He didn't remember his mother, of course, but he knew he had survived that night while she had died, and he had grown up with the guilt his father and brother felt about surviving that night, and he'd taken a psychology class or two so he understood why his brain might try to tell him, "No, you can't have this normal life with this normal girl because this horrible thing happened to you when you were a baby and you're basically fucked for life, you asshole!"

After Jessica's death, Dean had been very gentle. Hadn't pushed Sam at all. Understood that Sam needed space and time to heal.

Dean had noticed the dreams, of course. He'd had them himself, after their mother died, and he had to admit this thing with Jessica had given him the creeps in a really deep and profound way, so that Dean found himself having a few nightmares of his own.

But for Dean, the job was everything, so he would deal, Sam knew. Dean would be fine. And Sam was grateful to Dean for just being there, quiet and steady and absolutely rock-solid as always. Not insisting they talk about their relationship, or their long separation, or needing to have sex, or -- anything. Just being there for Sam.

So when Sam woke up one night shivering and sweating and heart-pounding from another nightmare and Dean was hovering over him, just being there, and Sam reached for him and Dean slid into Sam's bed and spooned him, just holding him as he fell back asleep, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Not weird at all. Totally familiar and so, so comforting.

From then on, whenever Sam had a nightmare, Dean was there, slipping into Sam's bed, pulling Sam into his arms, just giving the comfort Sam needed to get back to sleep. Not demanding anything else.

Although Sam couldn't help noticing how hard Dean was sometimes, pressed up against his backside with a really obvious need which at first Sam ignored, then slowly as the weeks went by Sam began to think about more and more.

Sam wasn't sure how to start up with Dean again. It had been two years. He knew Dean was waiting for him to make the first move, as he had when they were kids. Dean had always been patient where Sam was concerned, always forgiving.

And then, one night, it just happened.

Dean had been so miserable after the demon-in-the-airplane job. He hated being afraid. And his fear of flying had almost kept him from doing the job. If they hadn't gotten on that plane, if Dean had given in to his fear, those people would've died.

Dean could forgive Sam for anything, but when it came to himself, he was a real son-of-a-bitch. And no matter what Sam said, Dean was not letting himself off the hook. It was as if they hadn't actually done the job at all, because in Dean's mind it wasn't done right. He should have been the one to do the exorcism, not let himself freak out while Sam did the heavy-lifting.

And no amount of reassurance from Sam could convince him otherwise.

Sam hated it when Dean let himself wallow in his own guilt this way. Dean brought a bottle of scotch back to the motel and made himself so drunk that Sam had to undress him and put him to bed, and in the process Dean reached for him and Sam just gave in, let Dean pull him down onto the bed, press his soft lips against Sam's, kiss along Sam's jaw to his ear.

"God, Sam," Dean's deep voice breathed. "Want you so bad."

Sam smiled, reached up to cup Dean's cheek as Dean's mouth moved down his neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses.

"Missed this," Dean murmured as his fingers caressed Sam's face, lingering on the dimpled skin.

"You're drunk, Dean," Sam said gently.

Dean lifted his head, looked down at Sam, green eyes bright with lust, liquor, love.

"Doesn't matter, Sam," he said. "Never stopped wanting this. Never. Just easier to say it when I'm a little buzzed is all."

Sam lowered his eyes, blushing under that intense green gaze.

"Me too," he whispered.

Dean hesitated another minute, waiting for Sam to raise his eyes again, give him the permission he was so obviously looking for.

And when Sam did, invitation clear in his expression, his lips parted in anticipation, dick hard as a rock, Dean lowered his beautiful mouth to Sam's and it was all over.

And on again.

In some ways the sex was even better now, Sam reflected later when they had exhausted themselves and lay curled together with only a thin sheet covering their naked bodies. Sam was sure this time. He knew what he wanted. Knew how much. Had had the alternative, the other thing that was not Dean, so he was more certain than ever that what he wanted was Dean.

Not that there weren't others. For Dean, that was a given that Sam had long accepted. Sure, it made him jealous sometimes, imagining Dean with girls, but it was always girls, never boys as far as Sam could tell, so he told himself it didn't count.

Plus, Dean practically pushed him into hooking up with girls too, partly as a way to heal after Jessica, but also because Dean got a real kick out of the fact that they were both so obviously studly het guys who could hit the chicks whenever they wanted.

Which was why it always puzzled Dean when people assumed they were a gay couple. To Sam it was obvious, and he ignored it because it was true, for goddssake so what was the point of denying it?

But for Dean it was some point of pride that people should see him as straight.

"'Cause I'm not gay, Sam," he insisted in their room after the young man at the desk had winked at him and glanced at Sam and automatically given them a room with a king-sized bed.

And Sam had grabbed his ass, pushed him into the wall, shoved his tongue into his mouth until Dean moaned and rubbed against him.

"Nope, not gay at all," Sam breathed against Dean's soft lips as he released him.

And Dean groaned, pushed against Sam's chest feebly.

"Only you, Sam, ya little bitch," he murmured, reaching up to tangle his hands in Sam's hair, yank him down for another long, hot kiss.

So Dean justified the thing between him and Sam because Sam was special, not proof of Dean's sexual orientation. Sam even asked him about it one time, when they were still kids and Sam was being teased at school for being gay because he came to school with hickies and the kids were mean, since Sam obviously didn't have a girlfriend.

"So what if I was a girl, Dean?" Sam asked him. "Would you still like me if I was a girl?"

"You are a girl, ya moron," Dean answered, not even looking up from his gun-cleaning.

"But if I was a girl, you wouldn't be gay for me," Sam insisted.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean snapped. "I'm not gay for you, ok? You're my brother."

Which was just nine kinds of crazy, Sam decided, but somehow he understood Dean's logic. Because for Dean, being brothers was what gave them the right to love each other the way they did. That and the fact that their lives were so fucked up. Because yeah, nobody else loved their brother like Sam and Dean.

But as they reminded each other on numerous occasions, especially later when things got really, really weird -- they were special. Normal rules just didn't apply to them. They could die and come back, they could go to Hell and Heaven and return basically unscathed.

So yeah, being lovers and soulmates was just part of their freaky specialness.

And reminding people that they were brothers was code for that.

Which was why Castiel put such a spanner in their works.

Because Castiel was hopelessly in love with Dean, and Sam could see it, and Dean just denied it although he completely dug it too because Cas was hot and who wouldn't want that kind of hotness and power to be head-over-heels for you?

And yeah, it made Sam a little jealous, and he was a little more irritable with Cas than the guy deserved.

Because Castiel was an angel, and everybody knew angels couldn't have sex. Right? They were supposed to be "above" all that. So Castiel loved Dean in a way Sam never could. With a kind of purity, a sexless, soulless passion that had no human expression.

But then Castiel rebelled, and then he fell, and everything he did was for Dean, even saving Sam, even learning to love Sam with a passion that was almost as powerful as his love for Dean, so that Sam felt himself being pulled into something he couldn't control.

And one day Sam realized he loved Castiel too, although it was different because what he had with Dean was always unique.

Sam could imagine having sex with Castiel, could almost feel the warmth of his skin and the flutter of wings enfolding him as he let himself drown in those blue eyes, those soft lips.

Which meant Dean could imagine it too. Probably did.

So what the hell did that mean? Were they both gay after all?

Or was being gay for an angel something else again? Like their brothers-but-more than-brothers thing? Their specialness, which only their closest friends, like Jody Mills, really understood?

Which is why when Castiel lost his grace and became vulnerably human and had sex with that reaper, Sam and Dean both felt the stab of lust hitting them like some kind of freight train. Oh, so now their little angel could fuck. Huh.

And Sam was all hot and bothered just thinking about it, slightly terrified because he couldn't help wanting Castiel that way so goddamn badly, which meant Dean did too which was why oh shit! Why did Dean make him leave? Was it because he was afraid? Did he think Sam wouldn't be able to take it if Dean and Castiel finally consummated their love for each other? Was Dean aware that Sam wanted Cas too and is that why Dean sent him away? Was Dean jealous of Sam's desire for someone else?

And then Dean took off to see Cas, the human Cas, and he was gone for a couple of days, and when he got back he wouldn't meet Sam's eyes and Sam was sure it was because he and Castiel had had sex. Even more sure because Dean and Sam were not having sex, because Dean was worried that Sam was still sick from the trials, even though Sam assured Dean over and over that he was fine.

But things were weird between them. Sam was losing chunks of time, blacking out periodically, coming to with Dean looking at him strangely, or stuttering and looking shifty, and Sam knew his brother well enough to know that something was wrong. He just couldn't put his finger on it. Dean wasn't telling him something, and Sam suspected it had something to do with Castiel.

So one night, while Dean was out picking up supplies, Sam called the former angel and asked him.

"I need to know, Cas," Sam said after explaining to Castiel that he had got his number off Dean's phone when Dean wasn't looking, because Castiel asked "How did you get this number?" and Sam decided to tell him the truth.

"Did you have sex with my brother?" Sam demanded, then listened for a moment as Castiel took a breath, sighed it out a little into the phone before answering.

"Sam, I think you need to talk to Dean," Cas said finally. "I feel this is not a topic you and I should be discussing."

It was all the answer he needed.

Sam closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, feeling tears smart behind his eyelids.

"OK, Cas," he breathed out finally. "You don't need to tell me. I just -- I just need you to know one thing."

"What is it, Sam?" Castiel's deep voice rolled across the miles like velvet, and Sam imagined the sandpaper scrape of his cheek as he kissed him.

"You need to know that it's okay, Cas." Sam said. "I know you love him. I know you would take care of him if anything ever happened to me. I know I can count on you for that."

"Of course, Sam," Castiel said. "But I'm confused. Your brother said you were getting better. He said Ezekiel healed you."

Ezekiel. Zeke. Sam's head spun. Suddenly things were falling into place in a terrible, horrible way.

Which is when he blacked out again. Permanently.

And on the other end of the phone line Castiel heard Sam say, "Yeah, you're right. I'm fine. Okay, Cas. I'll talk to you later."

And then the call abruptly ended, leaving Castiel with the impression that Sam was dismissing him, leaving him with the feeling that Sam had been about to say something else, something more meaningful, but had somehow decided against it.

And a few days later, Castiel found out why.


End file.
